Fire and Roof
by hobbitsdoitbetter
Summary: An abandoned mansion in the wilds of Alberta summons all sorts of emotions in Logan; The rooms are oddly familiar- Even if he isn't sure why. But when he is left there alone with Rogue his past comes back to haunt him- Literally. Can they survive? * Please note, this story is currently on hold. Read at your own discretion.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine. There's a bit of swearing, nothing major but consider yourself warned. _

_"Night came on, and a full moon rose high over the trees lighting the land till it lay bathed in ghostly day. And the strain of the primitive remained alive and active. Faithfulness and devotion, things born of fire and roof were his, yet he retained his wildness and wiliness. And from the depths of the forest, a call still sounded…"_

Jack London, The Call of the Wild

**CHAPTER ONE: HEARTH AND HEART**

_Didn't matter what Scooter said_, Logan thought irritably, _there was something about this house he just didn't like. _

And he took a deep puff on his cigar, surveying the grand hall around him. Trying to shake the sense that he'd been in this place before. The mansion he was standing in was a ramshackle piece o' shit in the middle o' nowhere, falling down around his ears and stinking o' human misery to boot. Three storeys high, a place that smelled like a charnel house though they couldn't find a single corpse. The X-Men had gotten a tip, whispers about a mutant lab in the middle of the Canadian wilderness, a house of horrors hidden behind the façade of a dilapidated Victorian pile. So of course they'd gone in investigate, like good little superheroes- And of course he'd been dragged along, since he was the only one with a bona fide Canadian passport and the know-how to deal with any resistance they might encounter on the way. Logan sighed, taking another deep puff of his cigar and leaning against the door-jam: Right from the beginning he'd thought this thing stank o' trouble-

_And as soon as he'd laid eyes on the place he'd known that he was right. _

Because there was something about the atmosphere that made his skin crawl, and a fer a man who'd spent as much time in one horse Canadian bars as he had, that was saying something. The shadows seemed too dark to him, the air expectant- waiting- fit to set his teeth on edge. Logan took a puff of his cigar, trying to force the unease away; He could see a family- mother, father, sickly-looking hazel-eyes boy- staring balefully down at him from a painting above the fireplace to his right, and he could almost swear the eyes were following him. Watching him. Judging him and finding him wanting though he knew well enough that he needn't fear the reproaches of the dead. _And yet_- Logan couldn't seem to take his eyes off it. Couldn't shake that feeling of being watched no matter what he did. Maybe it was the way the air in here seemed to be thick with something that he couldn't identify. Maybe it was the fact that despite having been abandoned fer more than a century nothing in the house seemed to have aged. Or maybe it was just the fact that the place looked scary as fuck and he'd been left here on his own while Scooter'n Storm ran home to collate their data or some such bull, with nobody but his own self fer company-

Well, his own self and Marie. AKA Rogue. AKA the X-Man.

_AKA The Kid, or else The Best Reason In The World Fer Gutting The X-Geeks and Transporting A Minor Across State Lines Even If She Wasn't Technically Speaking A Minor Anymore And Said Leather Suit Was Apparently What She Wanted-_

But maybe fer the sake of his sanity he should just stick to calling her Marie.

Because she was padding through the house somewhere behind him, seeing if the infrared imagers Hank had sent with them could detect the mutant experimentation labs they were supposedly here to find. Grinning and humming to herself, excited- he could tell by the scent o' her- because that little Drake asshole had bought her a new watch fer her birthday and she liked it something fierce. Logan closed his eyes, habit making him clench his fists a little tighter than necessary at the thought of the blond X-Brat and his Marie. The knowledge that he had no right to his annoyance making him ornery as Hell. After all, he mused, Marie was his best friend and he cared about her. Wanted her to be happy no matter what life she led. He supposed he should even be happy that a decent enough boy like Bobby was sniffing around, especially since there wasn't a snow-ball's chance in Hell of _him_ giving her what she wanted-

But just like this building, the thought of the pair of them getting together was setting his teeth on edge something fierce. And just like this building there was no reason fer his jealousy that he cared-dared- to fathom-

A long, silent beat.

As if his thoughts had summoned her he detected her scent behind him then. Heard her soft tread upon the boards outside as she pushed open the creaking door. The house had been a massive mansion in its day, boasting over twenty bedrooms, a wine-cellar and a ballroom: He'd kinda hoped that with that many to choose from she wouldn't have been able to track him down.

_No such fucking luck._

"You okay, shuggs?" she asked in her soft Southern drawl. The sound made him feel like he was drowning in honey, just as it had ever since he'd first come back to the Mansion six months ago.

_He couldn__'__t understand why it hadn__'__t had that effect on him before he left, but there it was._

"I'm okay, Kid," he growled, taking another puff. "I just don't Goddamn like this place. And I don't like you being stuck here-"

Immediately he felt her tense up, getting ornery. They'd had this fight plenty o' times already, didn't need to have it again. "Ah'm part of the team," she pointed out stiffly. "It ain't protocol to leave a single team member in a possible hot zone, you know that-"

"Screw protocol," he snapped, "I can take care o' myself-"

She crossed her arms. "So can Ah."

_He _crossed his arms. Added a glower fer good effect. "Magneto's still after you-" he snapped.

"He's after you too-"

"But I didn't nearly die on Liberty Island and you did!"

"And you nearly died at Alkali Lake and Ah didn't so Ah guess that makes us even, shuggs!"

And she blew out a frustrated puff of hair, setting her bangs fluttering. The white streaks he knew so well glinting in the light. Despite himself Logan took a sharp, deep breath, risked a glance back at her, knuckles tightening in reflex. Marie opened her mouth, but at the last minute she seemed to think better of it. Maybe registering the stressed look on his face or just tired of arguing with him, he couldn't tell. Instead she padded further into the room, flopping down on one of the couches which had been placed before the fireplace. Fer a split second looking every inch the aggravated teenager he remembered from their first years at Xavier's Home Fer Waifs and Geeks. Despite the ravages of the Canadian winter the chair was still in one piece and fer some reason that tugged at Logan's instincts something fierce: No house, no bed, no hearth could withstand the fierceness of his homeland's weather for more'n a hundred years and if this place had-

Logan _really_ didn't wanna find out why.

"You gonna be mad at me for the rest of the time Ah'm an X-Man, shuggs?" Marie asked him then, her voice soft in the darkness. She was examining her gloved hands. "Cos if you are, Ah'd just like to know in advance…"

He shook his head, padding over to sit down beside her. Even if this place _was _creepy as Hell being near her always made him feel a bit better- _Not that he__'__d ever admit that. _"I'm not mad at you, darlin'," he muttered, "I'm worried. I know you think it's a pain in the ass but I don't wanna see you hurt."

Even without his enhanced senses he could tell she was smiling- Though it didn't make him feel any better at seeing her in that black leather suit. "Logan, Ah'm the toughest candidate in mah class," she said. "Ah had you as mah combat instructor and Ah have you in mah head as well. Ah can handle mahself, you know that." And she lowered her head, her silhouette easy to read even from where he was sitting. Not fer the first time since he'd come back from Madripoor he found himself thinking how lovely she looked, found himself dreaming of dark hair with silver streaks instead of red. He pushed the thought fiercely away. "Ah'm not a little girl anymore shuggs," she was whispering. "Ah know you wish Ah were but Ah'm not." And she leaned in closer to him, putting her hand on his forearm. Brown eyes staring up into his even as she cocked her head and leaned up towards his lips. The heat of her body reached out to Logan, calling him, enveloping him-

And just as he had every other time this had happened in the last few months, he pulled himself quickly away. Scowling. Telling his body to ignore the way she made him feel, the things she made him wanna do.

_ She was the Kid, fer Chrissakes, _he told himself. _You can__'__t take advantage of that. _

_ If you do then you really are an animal, just like Stryker said. _

He heard Marie sigh then, saw her shake her head in the darkness. The platinum streaks were easy to discern, even in the fading light. She didn't look upset, she looked resigned. Tired. Maybe if he could put that look on her face enough then she'd finally get the message that she should leave him alone. Finally settle down with Drake. She stood, making a show of taking in the forest scene through the bay window to their left even as she walked away from him. Her scent turning slightly sorrowful, though her expression remained disinterested and aloof. Had to hand it to the girl, she had quite the game-face-

_But that didn__'__t make her an X-Man, and it didn__'__t make it okay fer her to get herself killed while trying to save the world. No matter __**what **__Scooter said-_

Another, longer beat.

"Ah'm gonna go check the perimeter, okay?" she muttered then. She sounded chagrined, but at least she wasn't upset. The first time he'd brushed her off like that he knew she'd cried herself to sleep that night, and it had made him feel like a complete and utter prick. "You on the radio if Ah need to get in touch?"

"Yeah," he said, "I'll be listening." He heard her give a sarcastic snort, which he chose to ignore; It was better fer everyone that he didn't listen to Rogue- or at least her hormones. No matter what he dreamt about at night. "You run into anything, you call fer me, you got that?" She rolled her eyes and he growled. "I mean it, Kid, you see anything and you call me." He shot the room a dark look. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Ah don't know, Ah kinda like it." And just fer a second he thought he saw something flit across her face, something… alien. Something… not-Marie. But as quickly as it was there it was gone again, so fast that he couldn't be absolutely sure he wasn't imagining things. He suppressed a chill. "This place," she was saying. "This place feels like people were happy here, y'know? Like there was a lotta love here, back in the day."

"Our source is right and there's a lotta corpses here, darlin'," he snapped. "This is supposed to be a mutant lab, remember?"

She shrugged. "Source could be wrong: We haven't found anything. Besides-" she grinned, "Ah still like the place."

And with that she sashayed out, her bad mood forgotten once she'd gotten to correct him. The sway of her hips something else he told himself not to notice and felt shitty about because he knew he had. Acting on impulse he padded out after her, telling himself that he was just gonna make sure she made it down the hallway and that he was _not _ogling her-

But what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

The corridor leading from the front room was lined by mirrors on both sides, their surfaces dirty and rusted by the passage of time, each reflecting the other until it was like looking at a maze. Setting up reflection upon reflection, making it seem as if there was an army of Rogues rather than one. Logan watched her turn down towards the staircase at the end of the passage, humming softly to herself and as she did so- Just fer a second he could have sworn that her hair was red, not mahogany. That it had no tell-tale white stripes, that her eyes were green and not their lovely brown. That her shoulders were held back, her voluptuous figure more willowy, more slim, and fer a split second-

Fer split second he could have sworn it wasn't Rogue at all but someone else. Someone reflected over and over again in every damn mirror in the place.

_If he hadn__'__t been before, he was really fucking tetchy now. _

"Marie-" he called. Resisting the urge to pop his claws.

"Yeah?" She stopped on the bottom step, turning to look at him. Her eyebrows raised in question, her stripes glinting in the pale light. She was Rogue all right, so familiar: There was no way that this was anyone else but his girl. He glanced at the rows of looking glasses but they all showed the same woman. They all reflected an image of Marie back at him. "Be careful," he muttered, feeling like an idiot. "Just… Keep yer wits about you, yeah?" And without waiting fer her answer he turned on his heel and padded back into the entry room. Smelling that sweet vanilla-and-cinnamon scent o' hers and telling himself he was doing no such thing-

While, in the mirror in the corridor he'd just left a red-haired woman stared out at the room before her.

She was smiling, slowly smiling, and she had glowing green eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine._

**CHAPTER TWO: DIMINISHED SECOND**

_It__'__s a good thing that man was born so damn pretty. _

And Marie stalked further into the house, muttering under her breath. Reaching into her utility belt- _yeah, she had an honest-to-goodness, why-yes-Ah-mugged-Batman utility belt_- and flicking her scanner open. Finding no evidence of the lab they were looking for or even the people who'd run it. Telling herself that yes, Logan was a complete jackass and no, she wasn't one for still wanting him- _Even if the quest to get somewhere with him was leeching her confidence and self-respect. _Because honestly? She'd been through this enough times with Jubes and Kitty: There was no use pretending she didn't want the mook, any more than there was any use pretending she wasn't a mutant. Just like her skin her feelings for Logan were a part of her, as innate as the colour of her eyes and her draw of her skin. Not, of course, that he would ever let himself see it that way. _Hell no_. Logan would rather be governor of the great State of Denial than allow himself to think that his innocent little Rogue might be thinking naughty things about him-

And since it had been a long time since naughty went anywhere near describing her feelings for Logan- _Raunchy, racy and/or pornographic might all be a more honest description now_-Marie thought she might just have to strangle him. Slowly. Possibly while channelling Pyro's power, or maybe Jubilee's. Because while she knew and understood that he wanted to keep her in that box marked "Perfect" and "Untouchable" and "Not Going To Turn On Me And Try To Bring About The End of The World"- Well, she didn't really think her sanity would withstand much more of this bull. Didn't think she could handle spending the rest of her life in a lonely bed missing the only man who'd ever adequately fill it- _Whether he knew he wanted to yet or not. _And thanks to the Great Resurrection, she mused darkly, it wasn't like her sanity was having an easy time of it these days-

_ Which coming from a woman with about five separate personalities in her head was really saying something. _

She picked up her pace then, heading deeper into the upper storeys of the house. Connecting the scanner with the transmitters Storm and Scott had placed along the perimeter and checking to see if anything was twitching- _Not that it was_. The image of Cyke the day she'd found him alive and unconscious on the Mansion lawn three months ago flashing behind her eyes though she tried to wave it away. The tension it always brought settling across her shoulders, down her spine. Wasn't like she hadn't been happy to see him, she told herself. _Far from it. _She'd been delighted to have ole Fearless Leader back. And since his recovery Scott had been different, less stiff, less… pitiless. More understanding of others' weakness, more open with his praise and his smile. Everyone had noticed it, even -maybe especially- Storm. It was like the knot that had been tied into his britches had been cut loose and now he could finally breath. Finally show the world the man that Jeannie had wanted to marry, the man that Marie suspected (on some level) Logan wished he could be. The dry wit and steely determination were still there- _This was still a man who__'__d order you to your death to save the team-_ But now Scott seemed… at peace with himself. Accepting. Content in a way she'd never witnessed from him back when he was with Jean. But while Marie was plenty happy with the new and improved, occasionally non-annoying Scooter Summers, she couldn't help the knots her stomach tied itself into ever since he came back. Because she'd heard Hank, Scott and Storm whispering together and they thought… They thought that maybe Jean had somehow saved him. Had overrode the Phoenix at the last moment and spared Scott because she loved him so much. Which meant that she'd been self-aware enough undo her own dirty work and if that were the case… If that were the case then maybe she hadn't died at the Golden Gate Bridge. Maybe she was still out there.

_ Maybe Logan wasn't safe from her yet. _

Marie stopped then, a slithering, whispering chill sliding down her spine as she thought that. The light from her torch bouncing so brightly off the mirror beside her that it momentarily blinded her. Something darting quickly behind her reflection though when she looked at it straight on she saw nothing but dirt and a dull, electronic pall. She tried to focus on what she'd seen in the mirror but she couldn't: Instead jealousy washed through her as she contemplated her- _her __**rival**_- coming back to claim Logan. Panic crawling up her spine as she thought about losing him again. Because Marie knew that sure and eggs was eggs if Grey were alive she would head back to the Mansion, start trying to put her old life back together again. Start trying to steal Logan away- _And there was no way Marie could let that happen, no way in Hell. _Marie felt a growl rising within her; Jeannie had cleaned up her Goddamn mess when it came to her honey, she'd put Scooter back together again. But the man who'd actually, y'know, saved the world from her and shit? _He _was still in pieces. Still grieving from her attack. Still vulnerable to the Phoenix and her poison promises, still craving her like an addict craves his fix. On some level Marie knew the viciousness of her reaction was unreasonable but the emotion seemed to overwhelm her. Its force unexpected- unstoppable- in the way only the flow of a new personality usually was. Logan was hers, she found herself thinking, _**hers. **_Not Jeannie's. He'd promised to protect her, he'd come back to Xavier's for her. He might have wanted to bang Scooter's woman, but _she_ deprived him of his sleep, of control. Of limits. She made him crazy with longing and lust. Her rival was nothing, just a woman to be used and discarded, a pale, pathetic imitation of _her_-

Marie heard a jangle of discordant, broken notes then.

She blinked, looking around her. Suddenly realising that she was sitting at a piano, her hands resting lightly against the keys. Pale moonlight streaming in through the windows around her, the night air whispering with secrets and loneliness and want. _When the Hell did Ah walk in here? _she found herself thinking. _And why the Hell did Ah sit down? _The last thing she remembered was- The corridor? Her reflection? She'd been thinking something about… About Logan. _Something about keeping him safe._ But after that there was nothing. An empty hole where the memory should be. Rogue shook her head, trying to clear it. Worry spiking through her as she wondered whether one of the personalities she'd absorbed had taken over again. But that hadn't happened in years, she told herself, not since the Professor had taught her control. Not since she'd learned the switch for her mutation. _And yet_… She didn't remember walking in here. She didn't remember sitting down. She stared at the piano keys, the urge to reach out and play another chord almost overpowering. Laid her hands on the ivory, the hard, cold keys smooth and soothingly familiar though she could not have told anyone why. For a moment she didn't move, feeling vaguely like she was floating inside her own body, as if at any moment she would…slip out of it… Drift away…

And then, without any idea why, she placed her hands on the keys…

By the time Logan found her she was already turning blue.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine. And thanks for their reviews go to tanya2byyour21 and katya jade. lovely to have you aboard ladies ;-)_

**CHAPTER THREE: THE SLOW-SWELLING DEEP**

_She was floating in the water, and she felt safe. Cared for. _

_ **Wanted. **_

_ The realness of this unquestionable, undeniable, untainted. _

_ The fear that she was losing herself a trick to keep her from falling ever further into happiness, into the cool, sweet-rocking swell. _

_ And yet, something was wrong here, something frightening: She was losing herself inside sensation, she was letting it take her whole. _Marie moaned- Tried to force herself away from the water but instead _she fell deeper into it. Felt it close more tightly around her head, her heart. All around her the cool, calming liquid rocked her, the sensation of it teasing on that skin that nobody usually wanted to touch, that everyone feared. That nevertheless ached for contact even if its was only a mindless form of relief. But this wasn't mindless, this was wanted. The sensations shuddering through her were painfully sharp and real. Mouth, nails, hands, raking across her body. Warm hands holding her, pulling her close as sin. The person she wanted wanting her and not the perfect creature that slept in their bed. Treating her like she wasn't a dirty secret, like she wasn't someone to be ashamed of, an excuse for regret. __It had never been like this for her before; Scratches on skin- Dominance- Instinct stalking through bones- were the rules of her usual engagements. Those were the only things that could ever be between her and the one she loved. And yet, and yet-_

_ Now, in this place which should have meant so much to her rival, she was being shown love. Tenderness. She was learning why she had a body that could feel and a heart that could ache and it felt so damn good that she__'__d never be bear to live without it again. Skin to skin- So sweet- So willing__… __So inexorably, undeniably cold__… _Marie tried to pull back again, tried to force herself out of this experience but instead she _moaned- __**Pleasure, so much pain, so much pleasure **__- Ah can__'__t bear to let this go- _Someone was shaking her but she couldn't feel it. Someone was touching her but she didn't want them there. Didn't want to let this thing, this swell dragging her under, become a memory. Because _for once she was right where she wanted to be. Here all was gentleness, all was longing with loving arms wrapped around her _and then-

"MARIE!" Logan snarled.

And he shook her again. The bare hand he'd placed on her skin- trying to heal her or wake her or even just snap her out of it- aching from the coldness of her flesh. A sense of helplessness clawing at him something fierce. As soon as he'd heard her playing he'd known he had to get up here- he couldn't explain why but the sound of that piano had set every hair at the back of his neck on end. But by the time he'd gotten here it was too late; She'd already turned blue. Logan had seen the Kid through some pretty hairy shit, had seen her fight and mourn and nearly die a couple of times but this was different; _This was like she wasn__'__t inside her body anymore. _She was rocking and shuddering at the piano, her skin ice cold: The last time anything remotely like this had happened was a couple of months after Liberty Island, when Eric Lensherr decided to make a takeover bid for Rogue's body and it had taken her nearly three weeks to come out of that coma, he knew because he hadn't left her side in all that time. And if he hadn't left her at the hands of Bucket-head he sure as Hell wasn't gonna leave her now-

_ He didn't care **how **damn uncomfortable this place made him feel. _

So he held onto her tighter, cursing under his breath. Because fuck if they were gonna have a rerun of the Lensherr escapade; Scooter was getting her the hell outta here _now_. Logan held the com device in one hand, waiting impatiently while the damn thing booted up and sent an encrypted request for pick-up- his other hand still trying to coax Marie's mutation into life in case his healing factor could help her. Still silently swearing that if Cyke's little touch of electronic cloak and dagger cost his girl any he would personally take the damage out on Summer's hide. Because he hadn't wanted Marie here, oh no, Scott had done that. He hadn't wanted Marie to save the world wearing leather, Scott had done that too. And now his girl was shaking and not breathing and turning bruise-coloured and Scott wasn't answering and honestly, how the hell could anyone leave Rogue alone here with _**him **_and think she was being taken care of-

She began coughing up water then.

The temperature where it splashed his skin so freezing that his mind went, inexorably, to Alkali Lake. Her shoulders shaking more violently, expression peaceful though she was fighting for breath. Her fingers still moving over the keys. For a split second real panic took him- _Water? How the Hell is she coughing up __**water?**__- _but then she drew in a heaving, frightened breath, eyes opening. Gaze turning glassy with tears as she tried to fill her lungs. Her fingers clanged noisily to a halt on the keys, confusion and fear raced through her scent as her little hands grabbed his forearms in a death grip. Her expression telling him plainly that she didn't have a clue where she was. Instinct took over and Logan wrapped his arms around her, rocking her. Warmth began flooding back into her body, her lips shaking as she shuddered and pressed her herself against him, her head buried in the warm skin at the crook of his neck. Her fingers lacing through his hair, the relief that she'd come back to him a physical thing inside his chest, and ache that would never need curing-

"L-Logan?" she murmured, her teeth chattering. "Logan, is that you?"

"Hush now," he whispered, "You just hush darlin', I got ya-" And he placed a tiny kiss on the top of her head.

She began shaking harder. "Ah don't- Ah don't know how Ah got here shuggs," she muttered. "How in Hell did Ah get in here..?" And she suddenly pulled away from him, twisting on the piano seat, trying to look around her. The vice-like grip he had on her giving her little room to move. Her gaze fell to the piano and she recoiled from it: She began scrambling, trying to get away from it as if those keys were a one-way ticket to Hades. The fact that they were the only things in the room besides her which were wet hardly doing anything for either of their senses of Zen. For a second Logan tried to hold her still but when he smelt the terror running through her he loosened her grip, let her stand up. Even allowed her to pull him to his feel and try to yank him out of the room. She made it half way down the hall before she had to stop, the tears coming again, her body pressed back against the wall like it would fail her. Sobs wracking her shoulders until Logan could pull her near. "What happened, Marie?" he muttered, trying not to let her hear the panic in his voice, "What the Hell happened in there?" And despite his best intentions he laid his forehead against hers, arms wrapped tightly around her. The knowledge that this wasn't how you comforted a _kid_ something with which he wasn't willing to deal.

"Ah- Ah don't know," she stuttered, her cheeks turning an incongruous shade of red at his nearness. She had her hand on his chest, the fingers curled tightly in his shirt fabric; For no reason he wanted to think about his heart began pounding like a drum. "Ah remember being in the corridor," she was murmuring, "Ah was thinking about Je- about the Mansion and then…" She shook her head, bewildered. "Then Ah was here, with you." And she looked up at him, the chocolate eyes wide and more scared than he'd ever seen them. Even on Liberty Island she hadn't looked spooked like this. "There's something here, Logan," she whispered, "Ah can feel it. And Ah think…. Ah think it want to hurt me. But it can't while you're around." And she threw her arms around him, holding on so tightly she damn near cracked a couple of bones. The scent and feel of her so welcome, so comforting, that Logan found himself not caring how quickly Scott got here if he could keep her in his arms. For a second he thought he caught something, arousal and sea salt and perfume pouring offa her as she smiled into his throat. But the thought was gone before he could process it, the joy of having her warm and alive again the only thing his mind would let him dwell on or allow-

Which was probably why he didn't notice the wet footprints trailing after Marie, staining the floor though nobody visible was making them.

Probably why he didn't register the wet hand-prints which had appeared at her back, her shoulders, when he held her so near.

Because after all, whatever was here couldn't hurt her so long as he was around, that was what Marie had told him. Whatever was here would have to go through him to get her. So Logan let himself hold her, allowed himself the furtive enjoyment of her skin against his as he comforted her-

And from the mirror to his right a red-haired woman watched him, her eyes angry and worried and grave.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine._

**CHAPTER FOUR: HONEY AND SALT **

"Are you okay?" she whispered softly then.

Leaning closer into him, her little fingers brushing against his mutton-chops. Calmness and arousal wafting through her scent now, _his_ arms apparently enough to drive her fears away. For a second Logan couldn't answer her: She'd tucked herself in under his chin and her fingers were stroking the nape of his neck, gently smoothing the hair there. Her soft lips were trembling ever so slightly as they hovered against his throat. Logan felt slightly dislocated having her there, as if he didn't know where he ended and she began- _as if he couldn__'__t bring himself to care about it-_

But before he could really react she leaned closer to him, eyes shining. Her breath fanning out to cover him, her scent crawling onto his skin.

"_Are_ you okay, Logan?" she repeated, "Are you still with me?"

There was something moving in her eyes he didn't recognise but he couldn't bring himself to look away.

"Be with you until they bury me, darlin'," he answered instead, voice gruff, hands tightening on her. The grip was gonna hurt her but he couldn't stop himself, couldn't make himself release her hip- _And why had he been trying to drive her away again?-_

Because he honestly couldn't remember.

"Then show me that you're mine," Marie whispered, that something he didn't recognise still moving through her expression. It looked…ancient. "Show me how much you want me, show me that you're mine and not _hers_-"

And before Logan could ask what the Hell that meant, before he could clarify who this _her _might possibly be- Rogue kissed him. Lips ghosting softly against his, her tongue sliding out to taste, to tease him- The pleasure of it making him clutch her more tightly and growl deep in his chest. For a split second he hesitated, telling himself to pull away from the joy of this, trying to ignore the drugged-with-honey feeling her kisses gave him and think straight- But then her hands slid down his back to pull him closer to her, her beautiful brown eyes drifting open and staring up at him. One look at _that _expression and Logan knew he was lost: Without consciously giving in he felt his arms slip around her, felt his tongue sliding slowly, coaxingly into her open mouth. The kiss deepening, intensifying as she pressed her body against his. As she gave herself into his touch. Pleasure was starting to build in the pit of his stomach, heat curling at the base of his spine as she kissed him. She had wrapped her arms so tightly around him it felt like she was trying to crawl inside him, her beautiful little body shivering and trembling with hunger, with want-

"Kiss me again, shuggs," she was whispering, "Oh please, please, kiss me… Nobody ever kisses me like you do…Nobody else ever will…"

And then suddenly she was pulling him through the door beside her. Leading him, coaxing him almost to lay down with her a massive, four-poster bed, her vanilla-and-cinnamon scent heady with desire and arousal and lust. Logan felt unease flash through him- _Too fast, this is all happening too fast- _but he knew he couldn't stop it. Knew he didn't even wanna try to, the notion that he should as hard to hold onto as smoke. He laid her gently down on the bed, pressing her beneath him. Her skin burningly cold against his, the feel of her newly surrendered body terrifyingly, achingly new. She stared up into his face, fingers shaking where she caressed him. Thumb tracing the shape of his lower lip, fingers trailing down to trace his heart. A flash of movement and her breasts were bared for him. Another and his shirt was on the floor, his belt coiled beside it like a snake. He smiled and reached down to kiss her again, silently swearing to himself that he would never give her cause to regret this- That he would never let her think it was a mistake- That he would love her until the day he died and even after-

And as he did he saw that something from earlier move through her. Saw a spark of something dark and glittering stalk beneath her skin and look out through her eyes.

_He actually felt his heart stop in his chest. _

Because this wasn't Marie, he was suddenly sure of it. The cruelty, the lust he was looking at could not be his sweet Rogue. He tried to pull away but his body wouldn't let him: Panic began racing through Logan as he realised his form was no longer under his control. She was gripping him now, more tightly. Mapping his grateful body with bruises, with hurts she wasn't supposed to inflict. _Nails, teeth used upon him. A pain unlike any his Marie would want fer him tearing through his limbs_. The world spun and he tried to shut his eyes to but he couldn't do. Couldn't stop this thing between them happening, though Christ knew he wanted to try. She was moaning into his mouth now, legs wrapped around him tightly. Squeezing the life outta him while he- He felt the animal taking over his skin. The wispy piece of lace she called panties the only thing between them and an act that felt too much like punishment to be what he'd want from her. Logan managed to force out a strangled, protesting tone and she head tossed her head back, eyes closed in ecstasy. The smell of salt water all over her now, drowning out her own sweet scent. "Show me your claws," she was whispering huskily. "They're all Ah want from you…" And she twined her fingers between his forcing the palms together: Without his willing them to the claws popped free, sending a jolt of pain-that-felt-like-pleasure hissing through his arms_. _"Cut me open," she was muttering, "And we can be together forever… Cut me open and this body will give you all you've ever wanted and more…"

And with a single, spine-melting howl of pleasure her eyes flashed open. Looking down into Logan's face, the irises molten and golden with rage. Heat and light blazing through the room like fire, all the oxygen torn outta his lungs as he stared at the thing she'd become. Fer a split second he was back in Alcatraz and staring at a woman he used to know, used to care about- a woman he'd had to kill to save the world-

And then she raised one hand and tossed him away from her without laying a finger on him. Her cold, hunter's smile a soul-freezing thing.

"Hello, Logan," she cooed, "Did my favourite animal miss me?"

And then all he could register was the taste of salt-water in his lungs.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine. Thanks for their reviews go to tanya2byyour21, katya jade and frozen megami: glad you're enjoying it lads. And please n__ote: Logan AND Marie are pretty angry in this chapter and when they're angry the language tends to turn blue, so be warned. _ That said, on with the story...

**CHAPTER FIVE: LIKE THINGS**

_She wouldn__'__t look at him._

_ Marie was sitting on the edge of the roof, her legs drawn up to her knees. Gloved hands wrapped around them, the scent of whiskey and cigar smoke swirling out behind her like a silk scarf. Staring moodily at the spot below where she'd found an unconscious Scott twelve hours ago, remembering- maybe- the stiff way he'd hobbled inside, refusing help from anyone, Jeannie's Fearless Leader to the last. Woulda been funny if it hadn't been so hard fer Logan, watching the man Red had loved walk back through the door he called home now- _

_ Because while he may have thought he let her go, every time he looked at Scott he would be reminded of her._

_ And he wasn't sure whether his sanity- such as it was- would take constantly being reminded of Jean Grey. _

_ A beat. _

_ Marie shifted then, her scent turning mulish. "You gonna welcome him back, shuggs?" she drawled, taking a puff of her Cuban, a mouthful of whisky. "Or you gonna get straight to business and ask him where the bitch is?" _

_ And she shot him a look over her shoulder, the gaze challenging. _

_ Logan didn't need to be able to smell the alcohol to know she was already drunk. _

_ "No need to talk about Jeannie that way, darlin'," he began- _

_ "-Every reason t'talk about her that way shuggs," she retorted, gripping her bottle more tightly. Turning back to stare moodily out over the Mansion grounds. "You think Ah don't know what she did to you?" she muttered into the darkness. "You think Ah wasn't here to see the mess she made o' you?" And she tossed him another look, half angry, half heartbroken. That inexplicable, gentle **something **that was always in her scent when she spoke to him running under his skin like salt across a wound._

_ He told himself he didn't welcome it even as she did it._

_ He told himself not to recognise that he was a Goddamn liar even as he swallowed his Goddamn lie. _

_ "I killed her," he spat instead, making his voice ugly. Maybe if he did that she'd get how dangerous he really was. "I slid these-" he popped his claws-"Right into her. I gutted her, I split her in two." And he tried to turn away, away from that memory. Jesus Christ, he didn't wanna think about what he was capable of around **her.** "So no, Marie," he muttered, "You don't get to bad-mouth her, not when I'm the bastard who murdered her-"_

_ Within the space of a second she was across the roof, standing in front of him. Her little hand seemed to burn where it gripped his arm. _

_ "What you did wasn't murder, you got that?" she insisted. "It was assisted suicide, and just like every other suicide she left somebody else to clean up her Goddamn mess." And she shook her head, rage threading through her scent now. Fear and pity and- No, he wouldn't let himself recognise that tempting, teasing scent. Not from his Marie. "Ah just don't want her to hurt you again, shuggs, you got that?" she was saying. "You always take care of everyone else and now it's time for someone to take care of you for a change." And she tried to touch his face though he pulled away from her. He couldn't- wouldn't- let himself want that. __Not if the consequences of his needs would be played out on her beautiful, sweet-as-roses skin._

_ Another- much longer- beat. _

_ "Look, you wanna be pissed at me then fine," she said eventually, relaxing her grip on him. She looked like all the life had gone out of her, her gaze on the ground."You wanna pretend that Jeannie was a saint then that's fine too. Ah mean, next to us, she kinda, sorta was." And suddenly she looked up, eyes blazing. Just fer a second looking nothing like a Kid. "Just don't you ask me to pretend as well, you got that? Don't ask me to buy that bull just so's you can flay yourself alive every day. Cos Ah don't give a shit about what she was at the end, Logan, remember that. Ah only care that she hurt you, and Ah won't let her do it again." _

_ And with that she stalked past him, slamming the door behind her. The sound of a bike echoing through the night a few minutes after. Logan stared out over the grounds, thinking o' Marie, thinking o' Jeannie. Wondering why dread at hurting the Kid rose inside him every time he thought of showing her how he really felt. Fer the first time in years he actually let exhaustion claim him, falling asleep with only the stars fer company-_

_ Next day Marie made her first open pass at him. _

_ Didn't take a fucking genius to work out why- _

_ -Snikt. _

Marie heard the sound of the claws being pulled back in as if from very far away. Heard the strangled gasp of agony Logan gave as her body- or the thing that was in her body now- lifted him higher. Splaying his limbs ever wider, ever more agonisingly apart. He was coughing now, just like she'd been. That immortal, un-killable body desperately trying to expel salt water as he hacked and gurgled and shook. Eyes wide with horror, face contorted in agony. Marie wanted to talk to him, to reassure him, to tell him it was alright but she couldn't do. Couldn't pull away from that memory of that night on the roof though it didn't even feel like it was hers. The only thing she could do was stare at the man she loved more than any other while her body tried to tear apart his-

_So this is what Hell is like, _she found herself thinking.

_ Watching the man Ah love be tortured and die and knowing it's mah fault. _

A long excruciating beat.

"What, no retort?" she heard her voice coo then. She could _feel_ the words being formed in her larynx, her mouth, but she wasn't choosing to say them.

It was terrifying.

Logan glared at her with unmitigated loathing. "Leave her the Hell alone, Red," he hissed. "The dead got no claim here, _you_ got no claim on her-"

"My claim is stronger than any you have," Marie heard her voice counter. She could feel something, something like ice running through her; it was as if she really did have salt water in her veins. _Jesus she felt cold. _"You took my life," she heard her voice say, "And now I take hers and nothing about that seems unfair to me-"

"You wanna take me to Hell then fine, Jean," he spoke over her. He was starting to sound desperate. "I took your life, I guess you got the right to return the favour. But Jesus, why would you wanna hurt _her _to do it? What did Marie ever do to you?"

"She lives, she breathes, you love her." Marie felt her eyes narrow. "That's what that little bitch did to me."

And at that he started to struggle harder, desperately trying to protect her. Muscles pulled painfully taut and straining beneath his salt-streaked skin- Though he had to see it was doing him little good. Inwardly Marie closed her eyes, trying to help him. Trying to locate the presence in her head and fight it, like she'd fought so many others before. But there was nobody, nothing she could grapple with, no enemy. _If this was the Phoenix she couldn__'__t find her in her head_. In fact, if her body and her mouth hadn't been hurting Logan she might have thought there was nothing wrong with her at all. _And yet, and yet_- It was as if her body was wrapped in a blanket of unknowingness, as if her senses had been switched completely off. She wanted to scream but she couldn't. She wanted to cry but she couldn't do that either. Could only stand silent even as she watched Logan's body split open, watched his skin slashed and torn by invisible hands. Her voice was taunting Logan, calling him names, insulting him. Asking him whether he was proud of himself for wanting to screw an innocent, whether she'd been legal when he started having dreams of making her his whore. The words seemed to bother him more than the pain because those he reacted to. Hissed that it wasn't like that, that sin wasn't what he wanted from Marie. "I know you're in there darlin'," he kept muttering, "I know it's not you doing this to me-"

"She's not trying very hard to stop me," her own voice countered. "How can you be so certain she doesn't want to harm you?"

"She'd never hurt me." He sounded absolutely confident. "Not on purpose. She's not a cold hearted bitch, not like you-"

He hissed as another wave of pain went through him. Marie thought her face might be wearing a smile.

"Is that so?" her voice was saying. "Then why doesn't she help you? Why doesn't she take what she wants and send me away?"

"She can't," he muttered, "You're controlling her. Taking what you want, just like always Red-"

That must have riled the thing inside her because suddenly Logan was grunting in pain, his expression a mask of agony.

But he still didn't look away and there was nothing repentant about his face.

"I never got what I wanted," her voice was yelling, "You got that? You and that sick bitch who spawned you never fucking gave a thought to me!" And a terrible crick sounded, as one of Logan's arms popped loose at the shoulder. Another crack and blood started colouring his shirt, at the left side of his ribs. His head lolled like a doll's. "You had everything," her voice was snarling, "And I had nothing! _Nothing! _Nothing but the way I felt about her, nothing but that piss-hole hovel and a son who Goddamn hated me while you lived in a fucking Mansion and watched me rot! So don't lecture me on hard breaks, James, don't you ever fucking think you can lecture me-"

And with that some unseen hand began smacking Logan into the ceiling, the force of the blows sickeningly loud. The atmosphere in the house seething and howling, the tension of it making Marie's head ache. Panic rose in Marie's chest even as Logan met her gaze and silently nodded to her. Even as he let her concentrate on him and not on what was being done to her, letting her believe she would be fine. So she concentrated on those hazel eyes, let her mind fill with them. Let the sight of this person she loved so much become her entire world. For a split second time seemed to stand still, to hang in the balance and then-

Suddenly she felt it. Felt the new presence inside her head, it edges hard and glassy and cold. But it was ancient, alien, completely un-Jean-like. Nothing at all in it of the woman she'd known. _**What the Hell is going on? **_Marie just had enough time to register her own confusion and then she was falling. The impact of the floor beneath her hard against her knees. Logan tumbled downwards to land beside her, his body dropping like a puppet whose strings had been cut. His back hitting the floor hard with a painful-sounding thud, his hand instinctively reaching out for hers. Marie swallowed, her hands tightening in his fingers as she did so. A little moan of shock sounding as she realised she was back in control of her body. He looked up at her once, a tiny smile transforming his features. Brought the hand she held briefly up to his mouth to kiss and then went absolutely still. Eyes closed, head lolling again, breath ceasing. The tired, sluggish pulse beneath her fingertips fading to nothing at all. Marie shook him, tried to wake him, tears making everything blurry-

And the red-headed woman in the mirror to her right disappeared like a drift of smoke- the image of Logan beside her immediately following suit.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine. And a quick thanks for their reviews to vera diaz, tanya2byyour21, katya jade and jeanniebird. That said, onwards and upwards..._

**CHAPTER SIX: DEAL **

"Send me back."

And Logan jerked away from the redhead, trying to return to Marie, the fact that he could see her through the frame of a fucking _mirror _doing nothing to deter him. All around the sounds of Rogue's frightened, heartbroken crying were echoing, the sound tearing across his nerves like nails across a blackboard. The way her little body was shaking, sobbing as she called him back to her setting off every protective instinct he had. The redheaded woman tried to restrain him but he jerked his arm away from her, snarling. Refusing to look at her, refusing to even think of leaving this place. He couldn't- _wouldn__'__t_- leave Marie. _Not now, not ever. _Not with that sick fucking thing moving underneath her skin and making her do things she didn't wanna do. No matter what happened he had to protect her- _Even if it was from him, he had to protect her- _

But the redheaded woman didn't seem to be listening.

In fact, she was trying to pull him away.

"James," -_Who the fuck was James?-_ "James please, you have to come with me-" And she gestured to a door behind her, which (like everything else in this place) was the mirror image of the one in the room where his body lay. This one seemed to vibrate with some sort of unnatural tension though, the wood humming. Fer some reason the suburban living room where Charles Xavier had met his end popped into his head. "Look, it won't be for long, you have my word," the redhead was saying, "the girl won't even feel it, I can make sure it's instantaneous to her. But you have to come with me now, because if he comes back I won't be able to hold him off, _a chroi_-"

And as if to prove her point Logan heard a snarl come from somewhere far away, the scent of sea-salt and anger wafting through the air. Saw the redheaded woman close her eyes, her body shining golden fer a moment as she whispered something low and singsong and soothing until everything went still. Logan tried to use her distraction to make a break fer it but before he could get even a step away she twined her hand about his wrist, pulling him away from the mirror-frame. Soon as she laid her hands on him his body stiffened, obeying _her_ command as it had back when he'd started manhandling Marie. The knowledge that he was leaving her after letting that…thing hurt her making him howl inwardly in rage. _But as always during the truly important moments of his life there was nothing he could do._ The mansion's walls seemed to waver, to dance like shadows; the lamps around them were lowering, their buttery light receding as they walked to the door. Logan felt a quick tingle of recognition, as if he were seeing the room the way it ought to be seen but before he could examine that thought the redheaded woman was pulling the door open, walking him through it-

And on the other side it was daylight, bright, milky daylight. A forest shivering all around him, vibrant and verdant with life. Suddenly he was back in charge of his own body again and he took in a sharp, quick breath, tasting the outside on the air in a way that told him this place was real. _Well, as real as anything else was right now. _The woman released her grip on him and took a careful step away, sitting down on a boulder to her right. A wind stirring her red hair and the skirts of the long, old-fashioned day dress he hadn't really noticed back in the mansion. Logan closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure and take in his surroundings: A bird cried out somewhere to his left, a river gurgled and hissed to the right of him. The air smelt clear and fresh, so free of chemicals-

_It had been a long time since he__'__d felt so__… __at home in a place as this and it chilled him to the bone._

A beat.

"There now, is that better?" the woman asked him, releasing his wrist. "I'm sorry I had to force you but I had no choice…" And she peered up at him worriedly, like you would at a child you'd been left in charge of.

Instantly the claws were at her throat.

"Bring me back," he snapped. "Bring me back to Marie right now-"

"Do you really think you can hurt me, James?" she murmured. She rested a small hand on the blade, her fingers tiny against his: As he watched the digit disappeared _through _the adamantium, her hands melting through his own. He went to grab her hair but his hand went through her; Without any warning he slammed the blades downwards into her feet- _Just like Kitty she must keep the soles of her feet phased if she wasn__'__t sinking through the grass_- But his claws met earth, slamming into it.

She cocked a single, elegant eyebrow at him as he pulled himself away.

Fer some reason the first time he'd faced Storm in a fight popped into his head.

"You never could be told anything," she muttered then, her expression almost amused. "Always had to find things out the hard way-"

"Don't talk to me as if you know me-" he snarled.

"But I _do _know you," she countered. Her expression turned sad. "At one time I knew you very well." And she pointed to her left, to a break in the foliage. A young man, about sixteen, was standing up to his waist in the river, his back turned to Logan. A long, sharp stick held high above his head. On the river bank Logan could make out the redheaded woman- or at least, someone who looked a lot like her though younger, about eighteen or nineteen. She was laying on her stomach in shift, stockings and petticoat. Humming to herself- _the same tune Marie had been playing_- and twirling one long, red lock of hair around finger and thumb. There was a slash of movement and suddenly the young man raised his stick high, a fish wriggling mightily on its tip. He brought the stick down hard- once, twice- until the fish's movement stopped, its body going limp. The redheaded girl clapped and laughed, congratulating him and as the boy turned to listen, Logan froze, all the air going out of his body.

Because the boy was him. Him, only younger.

_He__'__d never believed he could have been a child but he could see it with his own eyes. _

"You see, James," the redheaded woman was saying quietly, "at one time I did know you very well-"

"Logan," he muttered, "You keep calling me James but my name is Logan-"

_ Wasn't sure why that was important right now but it somehow seemed to be._

"Not there," she retorted, nodding to the river. "Not then. That name didn't become a part of you until much later, and you were always James to me."

And she pointed to the river bank, where the younger her and the boy James were laughing in the water, splashing one another. They looked… They looked like children, for all their teenaged years.

"That's why I brought you here," she was saying gently, "That's why I've been trying to help you-"

_She was trying to help him? _"So it's not you hurting Marie?"

"No!" she said. "Never! I'd never hurt someone you loved, James-"

And she nodded to the river again, where their younger selves were now dragging themselves to shore, laughing so hard they couldn't breath. The boy Logan teasing the girl, calling her Rose- _So __**that**__ was her name- _even as she swatted at him.

Something in Logan's chest tightened at the sight but he couldn't look away.

"Look," Rose was saying, "_A_ _chara, _you were the first person I ever really loved: Even if I'm not alive anymore I want you to be happy. But you can't protect me here, and you don't know enough about existence on this side of the veil to protect yourself. Without that knowledge the only thing you're going to do is get yourself and that girl of yours hurt." And she gestured to the far bank of the river, downwind from her and Logan's youthful counterparts. To a patch of shadows that seemed larger than it should have been, the huge tree which caused it not enough to account for its size and shape. As Logan watched the pool of darkness moved, shifted almost like it was crouching. The grass within its circumference growing yellow, the flowers losing their bloom. The boy he'd been laughed loudly and suddenly the patch of darkness wavered, shifted like smoke in the breeze. Stretching out until it was almost human in form, almost as if it were someone he knew. Logan stared hard at it, unable to shake the feeling that if he just looked at it long enough it would coalesce into a shape he recognised. It was the same feeling of almost-familiarity he got from Rose's voice but tinged more with darkness, with sorrow. With the reasons he never wanted to remember what it was like to be that boy in the water there-

And then even as he watched the thing disappeared, stealing away like a shadow.

The boy he'd once been and Rose didn't notice it and he instinctively knew that theirs was a dangerous lapse.

A beat.

"Is that the thing that's hurting Marie?" Logan heard his own voice ask then. Funny, but he didn't remember deciding to ask- Anymore than he remembered making the decision to trust Rose. _And yet here they were._

Rose nodded. "Yes, that's- That's part of it. That's the catalyst, that's the thing we have to stop."

"And what do you need me to do to make that happen?"

_If it involved selling his soul to Satan, he knew he__'__d do it to keep Marie safe._

Rose nodded gravely, as if she understood what he was saying. As if she knew what he was offering, and what he'd give up fer Marie. "I need you to face your past," she murmured, "And then I need you to fight him. And if you can do that we might- I repeat- _might_ be able to save the girl, and maybe even you." She looked away suddenly, her voice a whisper. "But I can't guarantee it, and I won't pretend I can."

Logan turned to stare at her-hard- letting his eyes burn into her then. "Whatever I have to do to save Marie, I'll do it," he muttered. "And if it involves feeding you to that thing, you gotta know I'll do that too." And he stared at her, taking in her reaction and waiting to see how she'd answer him. Waiting to get the measure of her, because something told him he'd really need to know. The seconds stretched out, Rose taking in his tone, his expression, his determination.

And then she held her hand out to his to shake.

"We have a deal," she said, nodding once, very firmly.

Logan let himself nod back. "Then tell me all I need to know."

A/N _A Chroi: My heart _(term on endearment, Gaeilge or Irish language),

_ A Chara: My friend _(term on endearment, Gaeilge or Irish language)

And yes, i am implying that Rose is Irish. If memory serves there's no indication where she's from in _Origins _and Canada was crawling with Irish immigrants in the 1840s off the back of the Great Famine. So i'm making a choice for Irish gingers everywhere. Sue me ;-)


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine. Thanks for their reviews go to katya jade, tanya2byyour21, frozen megami (i'll try to hunt down those missing words but not tonight) and midlife crisis. And so, on with the story..._

**CHAPTER SEVEN: HUNGRY GHOSTS**

"I can't tell you," Rose said then. "I have to show you."

And she reached out to take his hand, her expression coaxing. Once again reminding him of the way you'd look at a child. Logan felt his skin crawl as she did it, but not from anger at being patronised; He instinctively knew that she wasn't trying to belittle him or make him feel uncomfortable. Fer some reason though the set of her lips as she stared at him, like he was young and helpless and, and _her responsibility _pushed just about every button he had-

But then he was no stranger to irrational rage: _He__'__d made a fucking career out of it, he knew. _

A beat.

"Not so damn fast," he snapped then, moving away from her. His gaze going inexorably back to his younger self in the river. "I want answers first-"

"We don't have time for this, James-"

"Don't call me James-"

"We don't have time for this, Logan-"

He narrowed his eyes at her- It was rare someone showed as little fear of him as that. _But first things first. _He couldn't save Marie if he didn't know what he was up against.

"What was that thing we saw?" he demanded gruffly, jerking his head in the direction of the patch of shadow.

Rose pursed her lips, irritated. Apparently she could tell he wasn't gonna budge and didn't wanna force him again. She still looked drained from the last time she had. "It was a ghost," she said eventually. "A hungry ghost."

He frowned at that. "Like you?"

"I'm not a ghost," she said, a little stiffly. "I'm a spirit."

"What the fuck's the difference?"

"Well, for one thing I know I'm dead. And before you ask? You're not." He opened his mouth- _To do what? Correct her?_- And she shrugged. Her smile gentle, soft. Fer some reason he didn't wanna fucking dwell on the sight of Marie's face that night on the roof after she found Scooter popped into his head. "And for another," she continued soothingly, "I'm aware that the world has moved on, and that I am not at its centre. I'm aware that there are more important things in existence than the fact that I have passed. But that, that _thing_-" She nodded towards the river, nose wrinkling in disgust- "Cares nothing for others. It cares only for the pain it feels, it lives only in the moment of its death. It defines itself by its unfinished business, it tortures itself with it. Drowns itself and others in memory and that truly is a killing art." She looked at him, very straight and even. "Not that you'd know the nature of killing arts, would you- _Logan_?"

Instinctively he looked away. There was no damn way he was touching that.

"So I killed the bastard?" he growled instead. _Because A) it was a fucking reasonable hypothesis and B) He really didn__'__t wanna stare at those level green eyes. _

"Yes," Rose said. A swallow, hesitancy. "He is the first. _Your_ first-"

"Jesus Christ." Despite the years of hardened, armour-like cynicism he coated himself in Logan felt her words shudder through him. His eyes went instinctively back to the boy he'd been in the river, the boy he'd never be again. "So now it-he- wants pay-back," he growled, trying to get some distance. "And he's hurting Marie to get it-"

"I'm afraid it's a little more complicated than that."

He turned on her so quick he'd have knocked her over, if she had a body. "Say what the fuck?" he demanded. "You get off talking in riddles, Red?"

She shrugged. "I'm dead, it's an occupational hazard." But at his expression she sighed, her shoulders straightening like she was steeling herself. The Wolverine hissed in his chest, the muscles controlling the claws twitching. _He wasn__'__t gonna like this. _"She doesn't want to hurt you," Rose said after a moment. "I truly believe that Marie would rather die than harm you. But…" She seemed unsure how to put what she wanted to say into words and the Wolverine started to snarl. "She- understands that thing, on some level," she muttered eventually. "That's why it's able to reach out to her. That's why it was able to crawl under her skin. She knows how it feels to be in his place…The hurt, the loneliness… The feeling of never being enough…" She shook her head, eyes meeting Logan's. "There's a lot of pain in the girl. That thing's exploiting it.

And unless we heal her as well as you, we'll never get it out."

Another beat.

An uncomfortable sensation that felt a lot like guilt settled in the pit of Logan's stomach then. A voice whispering that there was plenty he wanted to do to heal that pain but couldn't. Wouldn't. Again his eyes went to the boy he'd been.

"So what can I do?" he said softly. "Tell me-" _Please, tell me-_

"I was trying to do that, Logan." She held her hand out to him again. "But you must trust me. You must trust yourself."

"Why in Hell would I wanna do that?"

"Because you need to," she whispered softly, standing on tiptoe until she was mere inches away from him. It felt damn odd, like a cool spring breeze had wrapped itself into the shape of a woman and parked itself right next to him. "Because when you must, you do what is necessary, always. Now close your eyes and think of Marie." He did it_- Though Jesus, it felt weird_. But he still forced his eyes shut and his mind blank. "Don't try to control the impulse," Rose was murmuring, "Just go with the first thing that comes into your mind…The first thing you always think of when you think of your woman…"

Which was when he felt the punch knock him painfully in the jaw.

It was also when he realised that he couldn't hear the river anymore.

With a snarl Logan opened his eyes, fists ready-

And realised that they were no longer in the woods.

The first thing he registered- _besides the fact that Rose was not beside him anymore_- was another punch swinging viciously towards his face. The smell of sweat and excitement and a large crowd's frenzy mushrooming inside his nose and setting the hair on the back of his neck upright. The adrenaline and rush of aggression in the air making the beast inside him howl. He had mere seconds to take in his new surroundings- _stench o__' __liquor, press o__' __bodies, the dry, unnatural, metal-and-sand-smell of the cage_- and then whichever dumb-ass had decided riling him was a good idea swung into view, a big, bald fucker in a badly-fitting eagle t-shirt who was strutting cos he thought he'd won a round. He went to land another punch but this time Logan saw it coming, let the asshole's beefy fist smash into his own with an ugly, metallic _clink_. The unnaturalness of the sound apparently lost on the baying mob around him. He saw shock on the moron's face, suspicious perhaps of what he was- But before he could enjoy the satisfaction of scaring the shit outta some red-neck he caught a whiff o' something that didn't belong in this place. Something… innocent. Watchful. Beautiful and gentle and sweet. _Something from long ago. _Fer a split second the cage seemed to waver, the sight of the river he and Rose had just left slanting into view like sunlight through a window. The sight of that boy he'd been pooling into view like a ghost-

And then he was back in the cage, smelling Marie fer the first time.

Beating the shit outta some hick while she watched, wide-eyed and disbelieving, though he could tell now unafraid.

He swung around, hitting the bald moron so hard his damn feet left the ground even as his shoulders and neck made contact with it. The howls of the mob doing nothing to make him worry. The need to show her what he was capable of something animal and unthinking underneath his skin. From the corner of his eye Logan saw her, face still that of a kid, no tell-tale white streaks to show what Magneto had done to her. That voluminous, hooded green coat o' hers covering every inch of pale, young flesh. Fer a split second their eyes met and despite himself he took a deep, sharp breath, taking her scent. Savouring her. The beast in his chest already purring in contentment, in anticipation of what it wanted next. Her mouth formed a little O of horror or maybe lust at the sight before her, her body like many others in that room warming to arousal at the knowledge of what he'd done-

And then just as suddenly she was gone, and they were back at the river.

Back to watching the younger him and the young Rose playing like two innocents in the stream.

Logan took a deep, calming breath then. Sickness at the memory racing through him- _A girl, she was just a girl, what kinda worthless animal thinks __**that **__about a girl?- _and suddenly Rose was beside him, her not-quite-touch cool against his skin as she soothed him. The sight of the river and woods around them gentle and cleansing and… safe. As if all the strength had gone outta his body Logan sat, collapsing down on himself like a rag doll. The stress of what he'd seen hammering through him. It hadn't been like that the first time, he knew: He'd barely noted his reaction to Marie that first night in Laughlin. Understanding had only come much later, in dreams and memories. Acknowledgement too dangerous a thought to countenance though awareness of what he'd felt was always hovering just below his skin. He took another deep breath, trying to force his body- _did he even have one here?- _into quietness. Into acceptance of what he wanted it to want.

And then Rose was at his elbow and guiding him to his feet.

She was also smiling, as if she were very, very proud of what he'd done.

"That was a beginning," she said softly. "That was the first step. The things I will show you are a jig-saw puzzle: I can hand you the pieces but only you can make them fit. Are you still willing?" And she peered at him as if she genuinely wanted to know. As if she really thought he might back out with Marie's life at stake, no matter how much some part of him was screaming that he should.

But Logan wasn't a coward. "Will they all be that… Vivid?" he asked, the sight of that streak-less Marie still behind his eyes, her smell still on his skin. It was torturous.

Rose nodded. "Yes, they all will. And they will all be as painful. But you will need to see them all." She reached out, her nearly there form pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Now show me your first memory of me, Ja- I mean Logan…"

And with that, despite opening his mouth to assure her that he had _no _memories of her, Logan felt the world go dark.

It was the beginning of something, he realised, as he was pressed into the black.


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine. Thanks for her review go to katya jade, glad you're enjoying it. And now on with the weirdness... _

**CHAPTER EIGHT: THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE**

"Just take me there," Rose told him in the darkness.

"Take me to your first memory of me and I'll show you what you need to see."

And the next thing he knew Logan was falling, tumbling. The weight of all his worry pressing like a fist down onto his chest. Light- Sound- snatching at him, trying to hold him. Flashes of moments he remembered- And those he didn't- Blasting behind his eyes.

The look on Scott's face as they fled Alkali Lake, knowing they'd left Jean behind.

The look on 'Ro's face the first time she'd seen him _really_ fight.

Marie, sobbing silently beside the Professor's tombstone, too tired and strong and proud to break down in front of the students, him rocking her in his arms and telling her it would be alright, trying to tell himself it would be_- _

And then other things, savage things. Shadows. Wraiths that stalked through his mind, too quick fer him to fight. An opponent he couldn't beat tearing at him in the dark, taunting him. The knowledge that he wasn't to be trusted with love hissing in his ear. Logan tried to concentrate, tried to bring himself out of this random brace of memory and into the one which Rose said he must summon. Tried to force his mind to call up- _What? A childhood memory? Had he ever let himself imagine that __**he**__ could be a child?- _though it felt like he was fighting in the dark. But he had to save Marie, dammit, and he clung onto that thought like a demon. Imagined it held between his fingers with a white-knuckled grip. _No matter what dark things hid in his mind he would make sure she was safe. _And as he thought that something went… still within him. The plummeting, soul-without-body shuddering descent slowing, almost coming to a halt-

Until suddenly he stopped, no ground beneath him.

Suddenly, some almost-notion-of-a-memory was brushing against his mind like a goodbye kiss.

He took a deep breath, testing the air, praying he'd brought them to the right place-

And then he sensed more than felt the memory flow over his head, icy and drowning-water deep.

Lips pressing against his cheek gently then. Small hands moving over him, soothing him, the humming-bird pulse of another human heart pressed against his chest. The beast within Logan sighed, growled in satisfaction. Helplessly remembering those horrifying, electrifying nights when he dreamt of his Marie. But this didn't feel like a dream: It was too pristine and unblemished to have actually fucking happened to him. _And yet, and yet- _Someone was holding him, someone he trusted. Someone who was trying to make him feel better, here in this memory that felt- That felt like the end of the world. He closed his eyes and buried his face in warm, silky hair, the scent of lemon soap and damp wool and- _he recognised it now_- Rose, tickling his nose. Soothing him. His face was wet with tears, his body smaller than he remembered. Hands fragile as bird bones, light and soft and fair. It belatedly occurred to Logan that he must be a child, at least in this memory-

And as he thought that he once again felt a sickening lurch to his stomach.

He opened his eyes then, a simple house revealing itself to him. Two rooms, a dresser. A fire hissing merrily inside the grate. Front door standing ajar, glaringly, obviously _wrong _somehow. The scent of pines and sea salt stalking through it into the room. Rose- a younger Rose- was tugging tightly on his elbow. Her embrace of him abandoned, trying to pull him out of there. "James," she kept saying, "James, we're not supposed to be here…We have to go _a chroi_, I don't know what he'll do…" And she stared at him pleadingly, her own eyes bright with tears. A streak that looked like a bloody thumb-print etched across her chin, trying to pull him from this place. But Logan still didn't move, didn't even try to. The urge to run was hammering through him but he wouldn't give in to its call. Because there was something to his right that he didn't want to listen to. Something going on there that he desperately didn't want to know. He could hear a woman moaning, low and coarse like an animal. The voice one he recognised, though he didn't want to admit it to himself. Logan closed his eyes again, the man he was and the boy he'd been willing this moment to fade, to have never happened at all-

But then the scent of blood hit the air and with it something else, something honeyed.

Logan felt those bird-like bones in his hands strengthen and knit together and fuse themselves into fists.

Rose dropped her hold on his arm then. The quick step she took back from him telling him all he needed to know about how much she understood of this scene. As if watching someone else Logan saw his own hand reach forward to push a door to his right. Watched as a chink of the room beyond revealed itself fer him like a gateway to another world. Two people- _Were they people or animals?- _were lying on a bed together. Sweating. Shivering. Muttering that nothing could come between them, neither husband nor duty nor child. Logan recognised the man as Creed, his father's gamekeeper. A vicious, angry bastard, the kind that liked to beat people fer fun. But the face of the woman, that was something his mind wouldn't focus on. It was as if he could see her and _not_ see her, as if the memory had a black hole at its heart. The boy James had seen Rose kiss her sweetheart Henry once before; Had even, though he was embarrassed to admit it, stumbled clumsily in on the field hands when they brought their girls to the barn. But those awkward, innocent fumblings had never looked like this. Those lovers had never looked anything like_ this_. Because this looked like…punishment. Hatred. This looked like something he never wanted to want to do with a person he loved. The scent of sea-salt and arousal was all around him, the sight before his eyes burning into his brain though deep down he knew there was plenty of it that he wouldn't let himself see. _And yet, and yet__… _

Though the man was biting and tearing at the woman, whispering endearments that sounded like curses as he squeezed her soft flesh, she was goading him on. Her hands-so elegant, just like Marie's- tearing and kneading. Making him bruise and bleed. The sound somehow utterly familiar and utterly alien, the comprehensibility of it a thing that chilled Logan to the bone. Without his willing it beautiful brown eyes rose before his gaze, platinum streaks against red hair. A Rose-That-Was-Really-Marie smiling from that black-hole of a woman within the bed. A Rose-That-Was-Really-Marie perhaps imagined in his own warm bed at home. Even as he thought it Creed convulsed like some sick mirror image, shivered. Bone claws erupting from his hands, the pain and pleasure of it written on his face as he rammed the claws into his lover's chest. The woman's blood spattered everywhere, her ecstatic moans rising in crescendo. Her gasps of pleasure as her chest was torn open shocking Logan to his core. Long brown hair tumbled like silk against the whiteness of her skin, staining it. The elegant arch of her back and breasts stretching like the string of a bow. It was Liberty Island and Alkali Lake, it was Jeannie. It was everything he'd ever wanted and everything he was afraid had happened to Marie…_Marie_… _He had done that_… _He had done that to Marie_…

_He had hurt Marie because that__'__s just what men with claws did__…_

And then suddenly he could hear Rose calling him. The real Rose, the grownup one. The spirit who still loved him enough to try saving him from himself. She was shouting at him, telling him to come back to her. That scent of arousal and sea-salt wrapping around his mind like a lover's embrace. The need to drown in this memory another of his many killing arts. Suddenly Logan was ice cold and sputtering in water. Suddenly he was fighting and kicking for air. He could feel Rose's thin hands trying to reach for him, could taste the salt-water rushing into his lungs, so icily cold it made him shake. _C__ould he finally die here? Could he finally find rest? Could he freeze and fall into sorrowing and never think about that memory again? _Logan had the oddest sense that he was falling again, that he was breaking apart. Had the strange feeling that his mind was splintering and fracturing, that he'd never be whole again. But he could still hear Rose calling him- Haunting him. He could still follow her voice back home. A hand reached into the water, grabbed him. Yanked him out, dripping wet and shivering, to deposit him on a riverbank beside a red-haired girl in petticoat and shift. For a second he just lay on his back, trying to breath, shaking with the cold and thinking- _Was he a boy still now? Was he the boy he'd seen? _And then-

"That could have gone better," the grown-up Rose dryly said.

"No shit," Logan replied.


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine._

**CHAPTER NINE: THE CROOKED HEART**

"You call that a fucking jigsaw piece?" Logan snapped then.

And he hauled himself onto the bank, glaring at the spirit as he did so.

Though he may not have been able to hurt her the girl at least had the good grace to look embarrassed.

"I did not expect _that _to be your first memory of me, James," she retorted archly. "I was your companion from the time you were ten years old, I could hardly have guessed your mind would come up with such an horrific recollection-"

"Then you don't fucking know me very well." And he snarled to himself, dragging his hand roughly through his wet hair. Rose rolled her eyes at his language, her slight frame shaking. It occurred to Logan that she looked like she was shivering but there was no breeze here and even if there had been it wasn't as if a ghost, or a spirit, or a whatever-the-fuck-she-was could catch a chill…

And then he shook his head, wondering at how weird-shit his life had become, that he could even _think _something like that.

A silent, ornery, mean-with-frustration beat.

Which Rose broke. Before he could stop her she reached out, patting his arm gently, and this time when he looked back at her her expression was understanding again. Apparently the girl was done being upset with him- or maybe she just felt she had better things to do. "As I said, I did not expect you to recall something that traumatic, James," she murmured. "Though the fact that it's the first thing which occurred to you makes my life a good deal easier: I thought I would have to practically drag that memory out of you, and yet you presented it to me without struggle." She darted a quick, almost-shy glance up at him. "You must love your Marie very much."

The words rose unbidden within him, so easy to say when the woman in question _wasn__'__t _here. "Yeah," Logan said quietly, "I guess I must do."

And he shook his head again, trying to dislodge the association of Marie with horror that that last memory of his had conjured. Trying to remind himself of her sweetness and her kindness, of the vanilla-and-cinnamon scent of her that always clung to his skin. Rose tried to smile at him but he did not return it, grimacing instead, the savagery, the rage of what he'd just witnessed stalking through his mind though he tried to banish it. The fear and adrenaline still racing through him, making the urge to pop the claws worse. But no, he wouldn't do that, not now. Not ever. _That__'__s what that bastard Creed had done to the woman Logan saw. That__'__s what some part of him was afraid he__'__d do to his Rogue-** B**__**ecause that**__**'**__**s just what men with claws do**__. _The feral shut his eyes tight, trying to drive the image out of his mind: Truth be told it made him feel a little sick to his stomach. It had come from someplace older and darker than any he had ever visited, older and darker even than his recollections of Weapon X. And the notion that his mind in any way, shape or form associated Rogue with what he'd just witnessed set every aggressive, protective instinct he had howling like a pack of starving wolves-

He'd thought it from the moment he'd set foot on this path and now he was certain of it: _The sooner he got outta here and back to Rogue, the better_.

Going by the expression on Rose's face though he doubted that would be any time soon. The silence stretched out, no indication that the redhead was going to help with that plan coming to him. She was staring thoughtfully at him instead, her expression reminding him of nothing so much as Charles Xavier's the first time he tried to look inside his mind. "Look, you gonna tell me what the Hell that was?" he asked eventually, uncomfortable with the thought that maybe Rose too could read him. He'd had enough people poking around inside his skull, he mused, he didn't see the need fer any more. The spirit sighed: She looked worried, and Logan was rapidly learning that when Rose looked worried trouble wouldn't be far behind-

_But though he may have thought it he didn__'__t say it out loud. _

"That was the last time you and I shared company together while I was under your father's protection," she said softly after a moment. "After that he sent me away. He was afraid… Afraid something would happen to you. To me. To both of us." And she pursed her lips, her expression clearly telling Logan that she had not agreed with his father's assessment. Strange that he felt no eagerness to know more about that man or why he'd wanted to send her away. Could it be that he truly cared more about the present with Rogue than a past he couldn't remember?

_Because if that was so it would be such a fucking relief. _

"And you did it?" Logan asked quietly, pushing the thought away. "You did it even though you didn't agree with him?"

Rose shrugged. "He said it would be easier for you, and I agreed with him in that."

Logan narrowed his eyes. "So you wanted to, to keep me safe?"

He had trouble saying the words, unable to imagine anyone applying them to him.

Marie's words that night on the roof regarding Jeannie popped into his head and he tried to push them away.

Rose touched his hand. "There are many people who would protect you, if only you would see it, _a chroi,_" she said softly. "That girl of yours is only the first on a very long list." Logan snorted but she pressed on. "I am in earnest, Ja-Logan. I mean it. There are many who would shelter and support you, just as you would do for them." A light seemed to enter her eyes as if something had suddenly occurred to her; Logan wasn't sure whether he should be alarmed or not.

In that moment she reminded him strongly of Marie when some harebrained plan had just popped into her head.

"And perhaps that's the point," Rose said, excitement threading through her voice now. "Perhaps you need to see those memories, if you are to fathom the meaning of these other ones." She squeezed his hand. "Tell me your happiest memory, Logan, your favourite out of all of them." Her grin was bright, quick, like a burst of sunlight and once again Marie popped into his head. The logic was inexorable: Unable to stop himself Logan's mind went to where it always did when he thought of happiness. It went to the only moment in all those that he remembered that he'd been glad he was fucking alive, glad that he even _had_ lived. For a moment the darkness surrounded him again, that sense of being weightless and falling which was becoming almost familiar now-

And then he felt the cold breeze lash against him, so much icier this high up than it was on the ground. Felt the scratch of her scarf brush against his wrist as he pulled his leather glove off and then laid his hand gently on Rogue's frozen, lifeless cheek. He was on the Statue of Liberty and Marie was in his arms, her little body cold, completely unmoving. He could tell with all his feral's senses that she was no longer alive but he wouldn't accept it. _He couldn__'__t let this happen, not to his girl_. And so he held her close, making as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. Not leaving her, not letting go of this person he hardly knew whom he cared so much about though he couldn't let himself imagine why. For a moment nothing happened and the pain of her loss was so intense that he thought it might actually kill him, never mind the myriad of injuries he'd sustained fighting to rescue her-

And then suddenly he felt two strong surges at once. The one horrific, the other wonderful. The two bleeding together to set his pulse racing. Because at the precise moment he felt her skin's power kick in he also felt a powerful rush of happiness- no, _joy- _that she had been spared like this. That his power had saved her, that he had managed to do this for her. It was the first and strongest in a long series of memories of happiness and they all involved Marie, they _all _did-

He heard Rose give a strangled gasp behind him and as suddenly as he'd fallen into the memory he was dragged out of it again.

He turned to her, about to ask whether that memory had been the sort of thing she was asking for but the words died in his throat.

Because the spirit was standing on the river-bank, her eyes wide and scared, her form shaking. Her hands were clutching, tearing at something Logan couldn't see though judging from the way she was reaching for it, it had her by the throat. As if to confirm his hypothesis Rose's feet left the ground, her body raised, her hands now going more firmly to her larynx. Trying to squeeze the invisible fingers that held her, trying to force it to let her down. Logan darted forward with an angry snarl and as quickly as it had arrived her invisible opponent was gone, Rose crumbling into a heap like a rag doll-

For a moment he was so surprised at what happened that he didn't move.

It passed though. He went over to her, helping her to her feet, trying to keep his voice soothing. Some tiny part of his mind wondering how a being who no longer had a body could be deprived of breath. He held her hand, stroking her back softly, years of calming Marie after her nightmares making comforting her easy-

When Rose could breath again she turned her green-eyes gaze on him and whispered, "I believe we're getting close."


End file.
